Pastor Ty and Little Terri

I haven't written anything on this yet because it hurt to much, but tonight I feel like putting my thoughts to paper.

Pastor Ty was the youth pastor at my church, Waypoint Church. I didn't go to the Children's ministry. I was always in the main service since I was five or six and vaguely recall Pastor Ty speaking while we were members at Trinity Church. After we left, he would come and speak every few months at our Church, and I remember laughing so hard at his sermons that I couldn't stop laughing. He brought so much life to the scriptures and his message, and I was thrilled to hear that he would be joining our Church in 2013.

 I was able to hear almost every sermon he preached there. I am so thankful for that opportunity.In March of 2014, I was asked who my role model was. The first thought that came to my mind was Pastor Ty. They asked why? I responded that I loved his wittiness, and yet he got his point across and preached the gospel beautifully, letting God work through him. He touched so many people (From my perspective at the time; little did I know!) and I could see Christ through him. I loved to listen to his sermons and couldn't wait to hear him preach and re-listen to his sermons on podcast. ("If you're listening by podcast, where are you?! Just kidding.") He recommended a book called "Why Revival Tarries" by Leonard Ravenhill, from the pulpit. I purchased it, and am still working through it but the things that God is revealing through it are incredible. He and I chatted every once and a while over social media, and before my first TeenPact class as a leader, I asked him to pray for me.

I had the opportunity, about a year ago, to join the youth group that he lead. My parents had given the go ahead if that's that I wanted to do. I procrastinated and eventually declined, a decision I now deeply regret. However, even though I didn't go to the youth meetings, I still felt that he was my youth pastor. He had a "puberty spirit" and he still ministered to me.

I received the news in the middle of a conference in Ohio that Friday morning. I didn't really have time to process the information. It struck me like a train, but at the same time, I couldn't think about it or process it. I spent two hours volunteering doing political phone calls for AFP Missouri that evening and the waiting music that was set on the phone was Christian worship music. I would break down and start to cry every time one came on. I left early and went back to my hotel room.

 I was still in shock. I turned on the song "In the Hands of God" by the Newsboys. The first words that hit me were "We have raised up hopes in our City's heart, we have followed fragile dreams; but only one can take the measures of our souls. We have stumbled over the trials of life and we've wrestled the unseen but only one can calm the storm inside our souls. In the hands of God we will fall. Rest for the restless. Hope for the sinner. In the hands of God." I wept for fifteen minutes. "and when all is finished and we face the fierce-some power of death, only one has over come the gates of hell. In the hands of God." The opening of that song, I feel, describes their life incredibly well.

I remember Pastor Ty as a role model. Someone who gave his life to Jesus, and let God work through his heart. God gave him a passion, a vision, a piece of his heart to work on this earth. And he followed it, and changed so many lives. He was witty, and funny, and yet humble. I want to be that. I want Jesus to work through me. I want my gifts, my talents to be Jesus' and I "want my life to honor him and bless a bunch of other people." The way he loved his wife, the way he taught his kids, I want to be that. I want my kids to know who Pastor Ty and Little Terri were; they impacted my life forever, and they're now dancing with Jesus, because HE conquered the gates of hell.

The last altar call at my Church that Pastor Ty ever did, he had a call for those who had lived a good life, yet were still holding on, and wanted control a part of their life instead of giving it all over. He touched me through that altar call. And I pray that I'll take the baton, and I'll carry it forward. There are so many more things I could write that othershave expressed, so I'll leave it here.

"If your Bible is falling apart, your life probably isn't."
"Oh death where is your victory? Oh death where is your sting?"
Ah, Kumbaya.
#CommaNotAPeriod